Fools With Dreams
by Always-SpRace
Summary: Everything happens for a reason, good or bad and there's never a real explanation for it. Love is unexplainable. Spot and Race never dreamed about something like this happening, but they wouldn't change it for all the money in the world. One-shot. Fluff and not very explicit smut. Sprace Slash. Enjoy!


**Hello everyone! This is a Sprace one-shot and it's my first attempt at writing fancfiction, so I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer : I don't own Newsies and the song Fool With Dreams belongs to Framing Hanley.**

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_**Fools with Dreams**_

You're a diamond, how I found I still don't know

But now I got you and I'll never let you go

If you're hearts a pocket looking for some change

My heart makes lots of sense

Just stay quiet, breathe deep

Breathe out, breathe…slow

Don't say a word

Let our eyes speak and they will tell you…

I'm a fool with dreams and not a lot of things

I swear that I will be all you need

Don't give up on me

Give me one more day

Don't give this all away

We'll be fine you'll see

Just don't give up on me.

_-_Framing Hanley, _Fool With Dreams _

When they met, they didn't know they were one individual soul torn in half in search of each other. And if someone had told them weeks before that they were meant to be together, that they were "true love," they wouldn't have believed it. Because really, the fearless brutal leader of Brooklyn and the short Italian gambler from Manhattan, true love?

"The hell you talkin' about?" Is what they would've said.

They would have denied it over and over until they could speak no more. Because the Brooklyn leader didn't love anybody and the Italian gambler couldn't love someone so…ruthless.

But nonetheless, when Spot Conlon locked eyes with Racetrack Higgins for the first time on the Brooklyn Bridge, their hearts pounded uncontrollably and then abruptly stopped. They didn't move, they didn't look away, they hardly breathed. They just stood there staring into each other's eyes, ten feet away.

Racetrack found himself marveling over Spot's blue eyes. The kind of blue that didn't resemble the deep blue sea, but rather a light blue sky. He loved that shade of blue, even if they belonged to the Brooklyn leader.

Wait.

When did this happen? When did he suddenly become attracted to boys? Men? Fellas?

As Race pondered over this, Spot was admiring Race's light brown eyes and how they would bright up the longer they stared back at him. He admired how it was because of him that they brightened up so much and how they continued to stare into him.

Wait.

Spot Conlon does NOT admire anything, least of all _love _anything even if it came from him. Spot however, didn't have to question his sexuality because he knew he was different; he just didn't act on it. But right now he wanted to throw himself into the arms of the one with those amazing light brown eyes.

And then it hit him.

He didn't know what the person in front of him looked like. He had merely caught a glimpse and knew the person was male. Because the moment Spot locked eyes with him, he lost himself in those dazzling light brown orbs.

Spot wasn't ready to look away.

Race, on the other hand, (whom was slowly processing his sexuality) was torn between ripping his gaze from those _incredible_ blue eyes or continue staring into those _gorgeous_ blue orbs.

Luckily, Race nor Spot had to make that decision because at that moment, the sound of whistles and stampeding horse hooves, tore their gazes apart.

There was some sort of commotion near the bridge that led into Brooklyn (something about a crazy drunk lunatic running around with a pocket knife threatening to stab people) and as the noise grew faint; Spot Conlon and Racetrack Higgins gradually turned to one another once again.

But this time, instead of gazing into each other's eyes, they took in the other's features. Everything from their hair, to their lips, to their arms, their chests', down to their legs, and up again.

Spot was wildly amused with what he saw. This newsie in front of him may have been short and an outsider, but he was very, very hot and very, very Italian. Spot smirked as he lustily admired the _nice Italian_.

However, Racetrack was gaping as he mentally devoured the Brooklyn leader from head to toe. Spot was a few inches taller than him and Race noticed, even though Spot was thin, his arms were well sculpted and his chest—which was peeking out from Spot's slightly opened shirt—was just so...such a turn on.

Race realized he was trying to undress Spot with his eyes. And when he stared up at Spot's face, Spot was smirking, and Race found it harder to stand still. He was about to take a step, but stopped as Spot confidently walked towards him with a sexy grin on his face.

Race inwardly panicked, feeling his heart pound faster with every step Spot took. His heart went completely still and he forgot how to breathe as Spot was now standing inches away from him. Race felt himself blush, feeling Spot's body heat and taking in his scent. Spot smelled of sweat and salt water with a hint of spice and Race was now in love with his smell.

Spot—who decided he couldn't handle the distance between himself and this hot Italian—was standing inches away from Race feeling his warmth, breathing in the faint smell of cigars mixed with something sweet, and gazing down at those wonderful light brown eyes.

Spot couldn't resist the urge anymore. He glanced around to make sure no one was looking and surprisingly, there was no one walking along the Brooklyn Bridge at the moment (probably because of the commotion that occurred a minute ago). He decided to use this moment to his advantage and…

He grabbed the hot Italian by the shoulders, leaned down, and kissed him full on the lips.

At first, the kiss felt awkward. Race had never kissed anyone before, especially not a boy, so he wasn't sure if he should worry about whether or not he was doing it right or if he should pull away; he chose the former.

Spot had never kissed anyone before either, but when he kissed Race, he knew he never wanted to kiss anyone else for as long as he lived.

But as they eased into the kiss, it slowly turned fierce with a sudden lustful need. Spot began to slip his tongue between Race's lips and Race obligingly opened his mouth to greet Spot's tongue with his own. Spot gripped tighter on Race's shoulders and Race wrapped his arms firmly around Spot's waist, closing the few inches of space between them.

They consumed one another with kisses and Race moaned with pleasure as Spot began to trail down kisses from his jaw line to the hollow between his neck and shoulder pulling down the collar of his shirt. Race slid his hands up underneath Spot's shirt and rubbed them up and down Spot's back. Spot moved his right hand to the small of Race's back which caused Race to arch, exposing more of his neck. And as his groans grew louder in Spot's ear, Spot began to steadily thrust his pelvis against Race's who moved one hand to cup Spot's ass, thrusting back.

Suddenly, as of one mind, they realized they were out in public in the middle of the day for everyone to see what they were doing, but instead of pulling away altogether; they gradually slowed they're movements.

Spot slid an arm around Race's neck and kept the other on the small of his back, but stopped thrusting. Race wrapped his arms around Spot's waist once again and searched for Spot's lips until he found them. This time it didn't feel awkward or hungry like. No, this time it was slow, sweet, and affectionate.

As they pulled away, Race stared into Spot's eyes and breathlessly said, "Racetrack."

Spot gazed back and truly smiled for the first time in his life, "Spot."

They stood there on the Brooklyn Bridge, holding each other, gazing into the other's eyes, and without speaking they let go as they walked into Brooklyn together.

Spot led the way while Race matched his pace, enjoying Race's presence beside him; oblivious to the looks his Brooklyn boys were giving him as they passed by. Spot didn't care about anyone else at the moment because right now it was just him and Race; that's all that mattered.

Spot had led Race to the docks heading straight for the empty warehouse where he would sometimes take refuge when he wanted to be alone and right now he wanted to be alone…with Race.

They climbed the stairs and into what looked like a bedroom/office where a mattress lay on the upper right side of the room and a crummy, but sturdy office desk on the other with a few old newspapers splayed on the floor.

Spot closed the door behind Race and locked it. When he turned around, Race pinned him against the door and kissed him softly, slowly slipping his tongue into Spot's mouth, tasting him. Race pressed closer to Spot as the kiss grew more passionate, wanting to lose himself in Spot, wanting to converge their bodies into one. Spot began to unbutton Race's vest and shirt pulling both off, feeling Race's toned upper body beneath his touch. Race pulled down Spot's suspenders to remove his shirt and then wrapped his arms around his waist while Spot placed his arms around Race's neck.

Still kissing and wrapped in each other's arms, they began to move toward the desk where Race laid down bringing Spot on top of him. Race rubbed Spot's back while Spot trailed kisses down his jaw, neck, chest and stopped between his abdomen and slacks looking up at Race. Race stared into those sky blue eyes and nodded, Spot pulled Race's slacks and undergarments off; continuing where he left off kissing Race's stomach down to his pelvis and…

Race moaned loudly clutching the sides of the desk, losing himself in the wonderful sensation; he wanted this. He wanted this with Spot. Race wanted Spot to feel the pleasure and passion that he was feeling. He wanted to give Spot the exact same thing.

Spot pulled away and stared at Race. Race sat up, kissing Spot then moved down to pull off Spot's trousers and undergarments. He kissed Spot once more before getting down on his knees, planting kisses on Spot's stomach down his pelvis and giving him the same desirable pleasure.

Spot's gasps and groans grew louder as he neared his climax, but Race wasn't ready for him to release. Race stopped and pulled away, moving upward to kiss Spot who frowned at Race for seizing his pleasure, but Race smiled and engulfed Spot in kisses as they moved toward the mattress. Race pushed Spot down, laying on his back, while Race bent over him nipping and biting at his neck, running a hand down Spot's torso. Race halted when his wandering hands found Spot's ass, looking to him for permission.

Spot bit his lip. He has always been in control, always had the power over everyone else and that's what made him the fearless leader of Brooklyn. He couldn't let someone else have power over him, especially with sex, he was supposed to be the dominant one. But then again, being a leader came with a price. A price that suppressed his emotions, isolated him from everyone else, and made him a threat. He hated and resented that price, so why couldn't he let someone else be in control for once?

Spot stared at Race whispering, "I trust you."

Race leaned down to kiss Spot murmuring, "I won't hurt you," then prepared himself, wrapping Spot's legs around his waist and entered. Spot winced as Race slowly pushed his hard member inside Spot. Fully in, Race remained still not wanting to cause Spot any pain, but Spot then thrust forward and Race placed his hands on Spot's hips gently thrusting back, at first. They moaned and gasped, rhythmically thrusting into each other as their pace quickened, consumed by their desire and new found love. Race leant down and kissed Spot lovingly as Spot wrapped his arms around Race's shoulders tightly. They didn't want this moment to end, but when it did, they weren't disappointed and they knew they would have several moments like this again. They reached their climax, Spot releasing his white fluid between his and Race's stomachs while Race released inside of him, giving one more push before removing himself from Spot. Race laid himself on top of Spot, tilting his head up to kiss him affectionately.

In that moment, Spot realized that even if he was King of Brooklyn; if the pressure ever became too much, he had someone who could remove the weight from his shoulders for a while. He had someone who will be there to support, care, and even love him; now and hopefully, forever.

That night they lay in each other's arms, staring into the other's eyes, smiling, seeing a future together filled with love and happiness. They knew they were moving too fast, seeing as to they just met, but they felt like they've known each other forever. They knew they were meant to be. They knew they were a half of a lost soul whom finally found the other. They knew that no matter how wrong it may seem to everyone else, to them this would always feel right because they _were_ true love.

That night, the first of many, they stayed awake getting to know one another—their likes, their dislikes, their dreams—and they realized that no dream they had ever had, had consisted of finding a love…a love like this. But they knew that any dream from now until eternity, wouldn't be complete without Spot and Race, so they began discussing even bigger dreams. Dreams of owning their own business, their own home, their own family together. Dreams of exploring the world together. Dreams of doing something spontaneous together.

And even though they both knew those dreams may never become a reality because they were just two street rats with little money committing an unnatural sin, they were determined to at least make one of those dreams come true.

Yes, Spot and Race were just street rats with not a lot of things, but they were street rats truly in love with big dreams of a hopeful future together. All Spot had was Race and Race had Spot and they had their dreams. They felt like fools, but they were…

Fools in love.

Fools with dreams.

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**I really love how this turned out and I hope you liked it. Please Review! Thank You!**


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